


It Takes Two to Tango

by noblydonedonnanoble



Series: Dance Class AU [1]
Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-02-03 21:56:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1757977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/noblydonedonnanoble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catherine is a ballroom dance class instructor, and David's taking her class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Basic Forward/Basic Back

**Author's Note:**

> I got a request from [lady-macgyver](http://lady-macgyver.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for a Tatennant dance class AU drabble. Clearly this is not going to be a drabble; I always have been rubbish about brevity.

                “Hi everyone, welcome to ballroom dancing for beginners.” Catherine scans the room, trying to make eye contact with and smile at each person in turn. “It looks as if nearly all of you are taking the class as couples, but I should ask—is there anyone here who hasn’t got a partner?”

                A lone hand shoots up, and her eyes fall on a bloke sitting in the second row, who fidgets slightly as everyone else turns to looks at him.

                “Alright, dear, since there’s no one else, I suppose you’re stuck with me. Do you mind?”

                He shrugs. “S’all right with me. As long as no one else feels I’ve got an unfair advantage, practicing with the teacher.”

                She smiles, swearing to herself up and down that it’s because of the joke and not because of the accent—though she does fancy a Scottish accent, now and again. But she trained herself long ago not to expect to meet nice single men in her classes; even if they’re taking the class alone, it’s because they want to learn how to dance to surprise their girlfriend, fiancée, or wife. She wonders what it is for this one.

                “Well, now that that’s settled… I won’t give you a detailed explanation of what we’ll be doing in coming weeks; I’m sure you’ve all read the pamphlets. Suffice it to say that my intention is to teach you the basics of a number of standard ballroom dancing styles. I’ve secured the dates for the two outings that we’ll be taking as a class—one will be the fourth week in, and the other will be right at the very end, the Saturday after our last class. I’ll remind everyone closer to the fact, but please try to make sure that you keep the dates clear of conflict, because they’ll be great opportunities to practice what you learn here.”

                 Catherine pauses for breath, and also to leave room for everyone to nod in some general indication that her spiel isn’t going in one ear and out the other.

                “Great. Then I suppose we’ll get started. Um… darling, I’m sorry, I never even asked what your name was,” she says, gesturing to the Scottish man in the second row with the nice hair—not that she’s noticed.

                “David,” he says with a smile.

                “Lovely. Could you come up here, please?” Addressing the rest of the class, Catherine adds, “I’ll be using David as a guinea pig to show you some basics, and then I’ll put on some music and everybody can give it a go.”

                David shuffles up toward Catherine, looking at the couples a bit anxiously. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to use someone else? I’m rubbish at dancing.”

                Catherine smiles at him reassuringly; she can’t help but find his reluctance rather endearing. “It’s a beginner’s class, no one’s expecting acrobatics. But if you’re really worried, I’ll tell you what: if you step on my feet, I’ll pretend I don’t even notice.”

                “You’ll be ‘not noticing’ quite a lot,” he mumbles, but Catherine pretends not to hear him.

                “I’m not going to be too much of a stickler about posture, but I want to spend some time on it today, at least.” She glances to David, who is still lingering some distance away. “C’mon, I won’t bite. Come stand next to me.”

                As soon as he does, she has to try very hard not to react; he smells incredible too, for God’s sake.

                “Right,” she says, more for her own benefit than anyone else’s. Focus on teaching the class, not on the undoubtedly not-single but unfortunately very attractive man an arm’s length away. “David, why don’t you face everybody. Um, could you stand up straight for me, please?”

                He plants his feet and seems to grow about half an inch as he looks straight ahead and stands straighter. “Like this?”

                Catherine looks him up and down. She feels almost certain that he could do even better. “Do you know what it means to breathe with your diaphragm?”

                David hesitates, then looks down at Catherine and says, “An idea does come to mind, but I’m assuming that’s not what you’re talking about.”

                This gets him a few laughs. She smirks in spite of herself. “Different sort of diaphragm. It’s a muscle under your lungs. If you can control it, you can take deeper breaths—it’s a big thing for musicians and singers. But I’ve found that people also stand straighter when they’re trying to breathe that way. Put your hand on your chest, between your stomach and your rib cage. Everyone else can try too, you can still get the general idea if you’re sitting down.”

                She looks from person to person, singling out a few who have their hand too high or too low. At last satisfied, she proceeds. “Now tighten your stomach muscles. You should feel the difference under your hand when you do. And if you breathe in while still trying to maintain that tightness, you’ll be able to take deeper breaths. And you’ll also see that in order to maintain that support, your posture is better.”

                Everyone does seem to be sitting much straighter, and as she watches David—who’s remaining quite serious and stony-faced as he takes deep breaths—she smiles, and tells him, “See, you’re handling dance class just fine.”

                He chuckles and looks down at her. “Yes, I’ve got breathing down just fine, but when the dancing starts, I’ve no doubt I’ll have some issues.”

                Catherine knows that the man must be exaggerating. He just seems so… lithe and energetic. Surely dancing should come easily to him.

                Not that she cares much one way or the other. She really, really doesn’t care.

                Almost as soon as continues, though, her certainty on the matter begins to fade. Each time she has him place his hand on her side, it slowly slides its way down to her waist until she has to move it back up again.

                “But that feels more natural,” he grumbles.

                She remembers thinking the same, at first. “You’ll get used to it.” Even as she says this, his hand begins to fall again, and she has to work very hard to keep from smirking.

                Once satisfied that David’s own posture is a fine enough example for the other blokes in the room, Catherine has everyone else in the class stand and spread out across the room to try to take on the basic ballroom pose. She walks through the crowd, moving hands up or down or trying to push people closer together or, in the case of one couple, pull them further apart. “You’ll want to be like that later for the waltz, but while we’re just working on basic posture, I’d like there to be a bit more distance between you two.”

                While working the room, she sneaks more than a few glances at David in the surrounding mirrors. He’s always watching her attentively as she corrects this or that, which is more than can be said of plenty of the other people in the class, who chat amongst themselves as soon as she’s given them comments.

                Finally, “I think everyone’s posture is alright, so I’m going to keep on going and show you the bare bones of the waltz… And we should have plenty of time for everyone to try it to music.”

                When she tries to illustrate the closer proximity of dancers during a waltz, and first presses in close to David, he comments on it, mumbling, “Blimey, we’re a bit close, aren’t we?”

                Catherine hesitates. “That’s just part of a waltz, yeah.”

                “Fair enough, but the least you could do is buy me a drink, first.”

                This results in a moderate giggling fit on Catherine’s part, which, to a degree, she keeps up so that she can stifle the strong desire to say, “Okay.”

                She uses David to explain the order of the steps—as he promised, he fumbles and steps on her toes, and as Catherine promised, she pretends not to notice. After they’ve done it a few times, they do it again, with the couples, and then she leaves them all to try it without having her as a model to mimic.

                “I think everyone’s about ready to try it to music,” she announces at last. “We’ll start off with something nice and slow, but I highly encourage everyone to count out loud until you’ve really got the hang of it. If you fuck up, make a mental note of what went wrong, but just start over again from the beginning of the box, alright?”

                “Yes,” everyone responds in unison.

                Looking to her dance partner, she says, “You stay here. I’ll walk around for a bit, make sure everyone’s doing fine, then I’ll come back and you’ll still have plenty of time to practice.” She considers suggesting that David practice his side of the box by himself, but at the thought of his still clumsy steps not under her watchful eye, she feels that it might do more harm than good. She’ll just have to get back to him quickly to help him figure it out.

                And she does return quickly, spending far less time than she no doubt should to correct everyone’s errors. When he sees that she’s finally making a beeline for him, David jumps up from his seat and grins, saying, “I was beginning to worry that you’d forgotten about me.”

                “Don’t be daft.” Forget about him… Catherine couldn’t wait to get back to him, even with his unfortunate tendency of stepping on her toes at least once every four measures.

                Perhaps it’s their proximity. Perhaps it’s his dopey grin. Perhaps she’s just in a good mood. Whatever the reason, Catherine dares to ask, “So why are you taking my class? Ballroom dancing, it’s mostly a couples’ thing.”

                “Oh.” His smile grows wider. “It’s um… I wanted to learn so I could surprise my fiancée at our wedding.”

                She immediately stumbles over his feet, and David halts mid-step, hands grabbing at Catherine’s shoulders to steady her. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I thought I was getting it.”

                “No, no, you are. That was… that was just me.” Aware that she’s turning bright red, she shrugs his hands away and tries to straighten some nonexistent creases in her clothing. “Um, congratulations for your engagement. She’s a lucky woman.”

                To think that she had actually allowed herself to imagine that this bloke, this gorgeous, funny bloke, might be single.


	2. Fallaway Reverse & Slip Pivot

                Catherine is running _so_ late.

                She spent longer than she meant to visiting her mum. The shopping is taking forever—some bloke at the deli counter kept fucking up her order, like it’s so hard to take a few slices off a block of cheese. And by the time she’s walked home and changed, fed Jasper, and had a bite to eat, she’s going to have to take a bloody cab to the studio. God, does she hate cabs.

                And once she gets to class, she can’t help but feel that her evening will get worse. She’s been dreading it all week, seeing that bloke again after making a fool of herself in front of him. Not that she even did much of note; he probably didn’t even realize the way she’d been mooning over him all rehearsal. But Catherine’s pride remains wounded, and the longer she goes without seeing him, the better. Hell, if she shows up and discovers that he’s dropped out of the class and she’ll never have to see him again, it will be a blessing.

                “Catherine?”

                She freezes in the doorway. Her heart beating a mile a minute, she slowly turns and looks over—to see David standing there.

                Clearly the fates have it in for her.

                Evidently concerned by her blank expression, he rushes to add, “It’s David, from your—”

                “From my ballroom dancing class. Of course, I remember you.” She’s had trouble forgetting, is more the problem. “How are things?”

                “Very well, thank you. I just finished dinner, and was going to head over to your class soon. Speaking of which…” David looks her up and down, taking in her shopping bags, her dress shirt and trousers. “You’re going to be late, aren’t you?”

                “At the rate things are going, yeah.”

                “Well, can I help you to your car? You’ve got quite a lot of bags.”

                “Oh, um…” Catherine blushes. “I don’t drive. I was just going to walk home.”

                David’s eyes widen. “Walk? With all that? Don’t be daft, let me drive you.”

                Yes, because that’s all she needs: more kindness from the handsome engaged man. She shakes her head vehemently. “No, no, that’s really not necessary. My flat’s only five minutes away, I’d hate to put you through any trouble.”

                But David’s not listening; he’s already taking several of the bags from her, and walks ahead of her down the street. “It’s no trouble at all,” he practically sing-songs.

                Exasperated, she rushes to catch up. “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

                “Nope. Why shouldn’t I drive you? We’re going to the same place, and if you’re not there, there’s no point in _my_ sitting around awkwardly and twiddling my thumbs while we wait for you to show up. So I might as well just help you get there faster. This is me,” he adds, and Catherine nearly crashes into him as he halts to unlock his car.

                She hesitates for a moment before finally resigning herself to her fate and helping David load her bags into the back seat. With that taken care of, he nudges the door shut with his shoulder before opening the passenger door.

                “You’re not going to kidnap me, are you?” Catherine asks, looking suspiciously at the seat. Mostly as a way to stall and try to figure out if there’s _any_ excuse that she can provide to just get out of this.

                “What, before I’ve even learned how to waltz without tripping over my partner? Not likely.” He grins, and Catherine can’t help but smile back, positively hating herself for it. With no alternatives coming to mind, she climbs into the car and allows him to shut the door after her.

                “Although y’know,” David adds thoughtfully as he slides into his own seat, “that certainly would be a way to get the most thorough instruction.”

                Catherine tries very hard to keep a straight face and keep her breathing in check. Surely he realizes what he sounds like. She has no idea how to respond, so she quickly changes the subject. “You’ll want to turn right up here, and just drive for a minute or two,” she instructs.

                “Okay. Just let me know when we’re close.”

                They fall silent for the duration of the ride, and Catherine spends the entire time unsuccessfully trying to fend off the various snarky, innuendo-filled responses that are flooding her mind about how very thorough she could be with her instruction.

                She doesn’t even bother to argue when he gets out of the car to help her carry everything inside. All she says as they’re entering the building is, “I hope you’re not allergic to cats.”

                The aforementioned cat rushes the door as soon as they step inside her flat. Catherine immediately drops her bags and kneels to the ground to scratch him lovingly behind the ears. “You’re just excited because you know I’m going to feed you,” she mutters, a smirk on her face.  

                “I’m assuming you’re talking to the cat,” David jokes.

                “Of course. You said you’ve already eaten. Besides,” she adds, returning to her full height and looking him straight in the eye for the first time all evening. “Also, Jasper’s the one who was letting me pet him.”

                Catherine hates herself for that last comment as soon as it’s out of her mouth, and quickly grabs her bags and rushes toward the kitchen, even as David laughs delightedly and follows close behind.

                While she prepares the cat food—Jasper hovering around the entire time, rubbing against her legs and in general attempting to endear himself to her to justify the feeding—she directs David from cupboard to cupboard as he tries to put the food away in a foreign kitchen. When he opens the refrigerator, he stares into it curiously, and after a moment of silence he asks, “Are you a vegetarian?”

                “Yeah, why?”

                “No reason. I just noticed that there’s no meat in there, is all.”

                “A rather common trait of refrigerators in homes occupied by vegetarians, yeah. I’m going to go change, I won’t be a mo.”

                In the sanctuary of her room at last, Catherine drops down against the door, letting out a frustrated sigh. Things would be easier if he were just attractive; it wouldn’t take long for her to get used to just ignoring that. But with every word that comes out of David’s mouth, she feels herself becoming increasingly besotted. He’s funny and charming and polite and she could swear that he’s flirting with her, a concept which she’s doing her best to ignore because there’s a whole different set of problems there.

                Emerging a few minutes later, now wearing dance class-appropriate clothing and feeling moderately prepared to spend another hour and a half in David’s presence, she finds him still in the kitchen, sitting on a chair at the table. Jasper has already made himself comfortable in David’s lap, and Catherine watches as David hesitantly tries to replicate her movement of scratching Jasper behind the ears.

                “Try not to be so rough about it,” Catherine instructs as she reaches him. “He likes more of a rubbing, massaging-type motion.”

                “Now you’re telling me I don’t know how to make a cat happy? That’s certainly a way to wound a man’s ego.”

                She can just feel herself turning red, and once again opts to ignore him for lack of an appropriate response. “Shall we?”

                “Yeah, sure.” David disrupts Jasper’s satisfied purring as he gently replaces him on the floor.

                It’s not until they’re back in the car that one of them speaks again. Catherine is scanning her brain for somewhere to stop for dinner, and has just remembered a food cart right down the road from the dance studio, when David abruptly says, “Look, Catherine, I’m sorry if I irritate you.”

                What? Irritate her? “Why would you think that? I don’t find you the least bit irritating.”

                He glances away from the road, giving her a skeptical look.

                “Honestly!” She’s at a bit of a loss for how to defend herself without confessing that she’s just holding herself back because she fancies him. “I’m just a bit reserved, is all. I’m sorry. I think you and I could be real mates, though.”

                “Yeah?”

                Catherine nods, trying her best to show great enthusiasm for his sake. “Yeah.”

                David grins widely. “I think so too. I’m sorry if I pushed myself on you a bit; I was just trying to be helpful.”

                “And you were,” she amends. A small part of her still wishes that she could have talked him out of loading the bags into his car, but a much larger part of her is quite happy that things went the way they did. Even if he said plenty of things that’ll keep her awake for hours as she tries to work out what he meant.

                “Maybe I can bump into you around the same time next week, then? We can drive to class together again,” David suggests, and she can tell that he’s trying hard not to sound too eager.

                Catherine knows very well that she should refuse, that she should be working hard to keep her distance before she falls any harder than she already has. But she smiles slightly, his enthusiasm rubbing off on her. “We can talk about it later.”

                They arrive together right on time, Catherine still chewing on her last bite of the pizza slice that she bought at the food cart down the road.

                “Good evening, all!”

                She receives a general murmur of, “Good evening,” in response.

                “So originally, I mapped out this evening with the intention of also devoting it to the waltz. But I’ve changed my mind; I think I’d like to start the tango. I thought it might be nice if you could have a wider range of dances under your belt on our first outing, and then we can just spend the second half of the course improving upon the dances that you learn in the first half. And with that in mind… David, would you come up here and help me introduce the tango, please?”

                She thinks he must have practiced alone at home, because he’s lighter on his feet, not treading on her anywhere near as much. And he’s attentive, following her every instruction to the letter; holding her firmly but gently, nearly making her swoon.

                It would be completely mad of Catherine to let him get any closer, and she knows it.

                But at the end of the lesson, she walks David to his car and gives him her mobile number anyway.


	3. Progressive Link

                “Have I mentioned that I’m thinking of closing my shop?”

                “What? You’re not seriously thinking of retirement already?”

                Catherine’s mother, Josephine, casts her gaze down, picking at the remnants of the salad on her plate. “I’m not as young as I once was, darling. And I always thought that I’d have someone to help me run it as I got older, but…”

                “Mum,” Catherine groans. “Don’t do this now.”

                 Josephine chuckles. “I thought I might as well try. It might not be glamorous, selling flowers, but it’s a living.”

                “And what I do isn’t?”

                “You know I don’t mean it like that. I just worry about you sometimes. Instructing dance classes… Is that really what you want to do all your life?”

                “I love teaching,” Catherine insists automatically. And she isn’t lying. The best hours of every day are the hours she spends in classes.

                But her mother knows her. She smiles patiently and says, “You want more, though. You must. Have you met any nice blokes lately?”

                “God, a bloke isn’t going to solve all my problems.”

                Josephine chuckles and exclaims, “Touchy! So that’s a no then?” But something changes in Catherine’s features and her mother’s eyes widen. “Or does that mean yes?”

                And so, somehow, she manages to tell her bloody mother.

                The only way that Catherine can rationalize it is by reminding herself that she’s never been good at keeping her crushes quiet. She always wants to tell _someone_. Her friends are out of the question, because they just find it hilarious that she’s incapable of falling for a single, straight man. So her mum is the only one left.

                Far from laughing, Josephine just gives her a long, steady look. “You know you’re just going to get hurt,” she says gently. “Remember how you felt after—”

                “This one is different. Sometimes I…” Sometimes with the way he looks at her, the things he says… Catherine could swear that he seems to want her just as much as she wants him. But she doesn’t want to tell her mum _that_. That brings with it a completely different set of problems. “He’s different.”

                “Aren’t they always?”

                Catherine shrugs noncommittally and takes a massive gulp of her tea rather than respond.

                Her mother glances at the clock above Catherine’s sink. “Didn’t you say you’ve got a class tonight?”

                “Yes, why? What time is it?”She looks up at the clock as well, and immediately her eyes widen. “Fuck, he’s going to be here any minute.”

                “Who?”

                “I’ve got to go change,” Catherine says, ignoring the question.

                From her bedroom, she hears a faint knocking on the door. “Go on and let him in, Mum! Tell him I’ll just be a moment.”

                And then she hears something completely unexpected. “Josephine?”

                “David?”

                She nearly tears out of her room after that, still pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she zeroes in on David and her mother, who are staring at one another in confusion. “Hi! David! I’d introduce you to my mum, but it seems like you’ve already met.”

                “Your mum? Oh, what a coincidence!”

                She looks to her mother, silently praying for an explanation, and Josephine thankfully obliges. “David and his fiancée came to my shop the other day about floral arrangements for their wedding.”

                “How lovely,” Catherine says, trying hard to smile. “Um, I’ll be ready in just one moment, I left my shoes in the other room.”

                Catherine immediately turns on her heel and retreats back into her room. She hears Josephine’s footsteps right behind her and flinches, already bracing herself for whatever her mother is going to say.

                “I don’t want to hear it,” she grumbles.

                “Hmm? I wasn’t going to say anything.” Silence as Catherine searches in vain through her wardrobe. “But if I were to say something…”

                “ _Yes_?”

                Josephine hesitates. “Never mind. I shouldn’t make it any of my business.”

                “Oh no, don’t do that. You’ve got to share now.”

                “Letting him into your life like this is just going to make it harder to get over it.”

                Catherine stares up at Josephine, scowling. “I really don’t need this right now, Mum.”

                “I know. You were the one who insisted on my saying it. But come on, darling. Let’s not leave the poor man alone out there with just Jasper to entertain him.”

                But David looks completely at home when they return to him. He’s sitting on the floor cross-legged, with Jasper right in front of him, rolled on his back and stomach exposed for petting. “I really do think your cat likes me,” he tells her proudly.

                “It certainly seems that way,” Catherine mumbles, trying her hardest to ignore her mother’s piercing stare.

                She doesn’t feel comfortable again until they’ve seen Josephine off and settled into David’s car to head to the studio. All nice and isolated with him, she finally feels like she’s no longer under any scrutiny.

                “I liked that photo from the other day,” he says suddenly.

                “Which one?” They’ve fired back and forth quite a few photos and texts since the previous week’s class. Catherine managed not to mention that one detail to her mother, at least.

                David laughs. “Like you don’t know. The one that would make anyone of my skill level feel like a wretched dancer.”

                “Oh! That was my advanced swing private lesson. They’re incredible, don’t you think?”

                “It made my muscles ache, just looking at them.”

                “We’re doing swing tonight, and they’ll be there, so you should tell them that. I think they’d be thrilled.”

                With this news, David pouts slightly at the road. “What, aren’t I a sufficient guinea pig?”

                “Don’t be ridiculous,” Catherine chuckles, and without thinking she swats at his arm playfully. Immediately, she shrinks back—she’s made such a concentrated effort to avoid coming into physical contact with David when they’re not actually dancing. She forges on immediately, trying to mask her sudden discomfort. “I usually teach this class with a partner, but using you to illustrate each step is actually perfect. Sometimes he and I would get carried away and do too much too soon, but—”

                “But that can’t happen because I’m rubbish. Of course.”

                “No! I didn’t mean—”

                He laughs, loud and full and her heart stutters in her chest. “I’m only teasing. I know I’m fairly hopeless with dancing; you don’t need to sugar-coat it.”

                Catherine wants to argue with him, because if his improvement from week one to week two was any indication, he’s not as hopeless as he probably thinks himself to be. But she doubts if he’ll believe her. So instead she asks, “Did you practice again this week?”

                “Was it that obvious?”

                “Yes. You were stepping all over my toes the first class but you weren’t half-bad last time.”

                “I might have practiced a bit,” he amends. “Pulled up some videos on youtube, found some waltz tunes, you know. I tried to have a go at a solo tango this weekend but it’s harder to do without a partner.”

                She giggles at the image of David attempting to mimic tango steps from youtube videos all by his lonesome. “Did you always work so hard to excel in your classes?”

                “Only with teachers I wanted to impress.”

                “Right, of course.” Catherine nods seriously.

                He gives her a sideways glance. “I’m not kidding.”

                “Oh. Um. Alright. I don’t really know what to say to that.”

                “Yeah, I don’t really know why I said it,” David confesses. “But it is true.”

                At a loss for words—something that only happens around this bloke, it seems—Catherine lets the car fall silent. He doesn’t try to push conversation, for which she’s exceedingly grateful. But by the time they get to the studio, they are chatting comfortably again. This time they’re early, and people have only just begun to filter in. Looking over those who are already there, Catherine frowns and says, “I don’t see John and Eve anywhere. I’m going to go check in the office, see if they’re gossiping with the receptionist.”

                “John and Eve?” David echoes, but she barely hears him as she rushes out of the room.

                They’re back in the office, just as she suspected. They’ve made themselves quite at home; John has even kicked back and set his feet up on the counter.

                “You guys both look great,” Catherine says, taking in Eve’s black dress and John’s suit. “You didn’t need to go all out for this. It’s just a little demonstration.”

                Eve waves her off. “Don’t be daft. We wanted to. Right, John?” She looks to him, but before he can agree, the phone rings and he lunges to grab it before the receptionist so that he can answer in a sing-song voice. Eve rolls her eyes. “We wanted to.”

                Catherine gives her a grateful smile. “Thank you. Feel free to come on in whenever he’s done playing around.”

                “That could be a while!”

                When she returns to her class, the last stragglers have arrived, and she tells them about the guests she invited to illustrate some proper swing dancing. “They’ll be here in a few minutes, so feel free to talk amongst yourselves until they come in.”

                Scanning the rows of chairs for a place to sit, she sees that only one is empty—right next to David. Figures. His arm is draped across the back and when Catherine goes to claim the seat, he doesn’t move a muscle. Just smiles up at her. So she can see nothing else but to sit.

                “Did you say your friends are called John and Eve?”

                “Yeah, why?”

                “I think I might—”

                He doesn’t finish that sentence, because at that moment the door opens and John and Eve come strolling in. David immediately lets out a whoop of delight. “John!”

                “Oh my God, David?”

                As Catherine watches, David jumps up from his chair and rushes to the front of the room to tackle John and pull him into a hug. She’d be hard-pressed to come up with a way for this evening to become any stranger.

                She also kind of misses David’s arm as soon as it’s no longer pressed against her back.

                “What are you—oh, never mind, we’ll talk after this,” John promises.

                David nods agreeably and rushes back to his seat, catching Catherine’s eye as he sits down. “What?”

                “Do you know _everybody_?”

                “He, Eve and I went to university together.” He grins. “I haven’t seen them in years, isn’t that serendipitous?”

                Catherine nods blankly, staring at John and Eve as they introduce themselves and talk a bit about what they’ll be showing the class.

                Serendipitous, indeed. She feels like the universe is laughing at her.


	4. Forward Lock

                At the end of class, John and David rush to each other, eager to plan a time to get together to catch up. But then John says, “Well, aren’t you free now?”

                And David is. He says so.

                In Catherine’s mind, that means he’s bailing on his plan to drive her home. Which is fine. Has she got reason to be bothered? It’s not like they’ve got a deal set in stone.

                But then he turns to her and promptly asks, “Catherine, you’ll come for a drink with us, won’t you?”

                Go out with them for a drink?

                She’s never spent any time with John and Eve outside of their lessons, but they’re both looking expectantly to her and she feels like they’d all actually like her to say yes. And David looks the most hopeful of all. She wants, desperately, to say yes.

                The four of them stroll into a pub of Eve’s choosing, with her assurances that it’s not too grimy, but also not popular and swarming with people—a perfect place for them to catch up and for Catherine to do… whatever it is that she’s doing with them, because she’s still not quite sure.

                  Once they’ve ordered their drinks, John starts in with a million questions for David. Beginning with, “So what possessed you to take this dance class, anyway?”

                Which is how Catherine finally hears about Georgia.

                In their conversations during class, as well as via text this past week, she’s been very careful to avoid talking with him about his impending marriage. David hasn’t been particularly quick to bring the matter up, either. But now she has to listen to him gush.

                The worst part of it all is that from the way that he describes Georgia, Catherine can’t help but think that she’d be lovely and charming, a thought which deeply stirs up her sense of guilt. She’s been fawning over a happily engaged man, with little to no prior regard for the woman on the other end of that engagement. A woman who, from the sound of it, deserves him more than Catherine ever could.

                He pulls up a picture on his mobile next and Catherine promises herself that she won’t look but then she does anyway. The woman is petite, blonde, and grinning sweetly at the camera, with David smiling wide and clutching her hand tightly in his. They make a perfect, adorable couple.

                God, if only she drank. She could use that sort of distraction right about now.

                As it is, she just downs glass after glass of cranberry juice, praying that her companions are unaware of her discomfort.

                “You will come to the wedding, won’t you?” David says at last. “I’d hate to miss the opportunity to introduce you.”

                “What, and give up the chance to tell your future wife all about the mischief you got into at school?”

                Now that’s got Catherine’s interest piqued. “I’d like to hear stories about David at university!”

                John glances between the two of them curiously before laughing and saying, “Oh, where to start?” while David simultaneously erupts into vehement protest.

                “It’s ancient history, Cath,” he insists. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

                She’s so distracted by his use of the moniker that she forgets what it is that he’s trying to convince her of. But Eve quickly reminds her, reaching across the table and grabbing Catherine’s hand when she says, “He just doesn’t want you to know what a twat he was then.”

                “Only because you’ll realize he hasn’t changed much,” John adds helpfully.

                “I resent that. I’m nowhere near as bad as all that.”

                “Just a minor twat, then?” Catherine grins at David, a glint in her eyes and her tone playful.

                And he actually giggles, the bastard; as though Catherine doesn’t find him adorable enough as it is, he has to go around giggling when she teases him. “Exactly. I’ve downgraded over the years.”

                The tone of the conversation becomes much lighter than that, and David’s fiancée doesn’t come up again for quite some time. Instead, John and Eve tell Catherine all about his exploits, as well as sharing a few of their own—her personal favorite possibly being the time when, during their very first year at university, David walked in on John and some boy getting down and dirty on the floor of their room.

                “I didn’t know what that tie meant!” David shouts, exasperated. Clearly the result of many retellings of the story and a great deal of grief from John on the matter. “Also,” he confesses, lowering his voice, “I didn’t expect him to be a bloke.”

                John rolls his eyes. “Still don’t know how you missed that one.”

                “I suppose it was a bit of an oversight.”

                “Right, and I’m a bit of a homosexual.”

                Catherine chuckles delightedly and David is quick to look at her, slightly apprehensive. But he notes her easy smile and returns it in full as he laughs. “Point taken, yeah.”

                She notices his reaction, subtle as it may be, and it startles her. Around David, she constantly feels so lost, while he seems to be so sure of himself, so together. But when he thought that she was laughing at him, just for that second, he looked worried.

                Why on earth should it matter to David whether she was laughing at him or not?

                As though she isn’t feeling flustered enough as it is, at that exact moment their knees bump under the table. For just a second, she allows herself to imagine that it’s John or Eve, but her eyes flash up to meet his reflexively and he’s staring at her, also looking a tad surprised. His cheeks tint pink and he murmurs an apology, pulling away immediately.

                He doesn’t look so sure of himself now. Catherine wonders why, wonders what could stir him up and make him anxious like that.

                The four of them lose track of time, and when someone finally suggests that they think about heading home, it’s after midnight. They all stand up, but, thinking of the drive ahead, Catherine looks to David and says, “Hope you don’t mind, darling, I should probably pop back to the loo before head home.”

                Immediately, Eve says, “I think I’ll tag along, actually. Let’s go.” She loops their arms together and is pulling Catherine to the back of the pub before she can even process what’s happening.

                Once they’ve reached the privacy of the toilets, Eve hops up to sit on the edge of the sinks while Catherine squeezes into a cramped stall.

                “This is all so unbelievable,” Eve says after a few moments of silence. “David being in one of your dance classes. He couldn’t dance for shit back at school.”

                “He was rather miserable the first class,” Catherine agrees, laughing over the thought of him stumbling over her feet at every turn. “But he says he’s been practicing at home.”

                Eve laughs too. “Well, he’s got you to keep up with. I think he wants to impress you.”

                Catherine freezes. She certainly doesn’t want to admit that he’d said the exact same thing to her earlier that evening. So instead, as she emerges from the stall and goes to wash her hands, she asks, “What do you mean by that?”

                “What should I mean? I just think he likes you, is all.” Eve gives her a side-glance. “David’s usually so shy, and this is, what, the third time you’ve seen him since you met? You’ve clearly hit it off.”

                David, shy? Are they even talking about the same person? He befriended her by sheer force of will. No shy bloke would be that persistent. “He doesn’t seem shy.”

                “Full of surprises, isn’t he?”

                “Yeah.”  Catherine grimaces at her own reflection in the mirror. It’s true; he never ceases to surprise her. Though each time she learns something new, it seems to just make her like him more.

                She shakes these thoughts from her head and turns, walking back toward the door. Eve hops off the sink and follows in her wake, and after a few seconds, she says, “Oh, by the way, John wanted me to ask which style you’ll be focusing on next week.”

                “Oh, um…” Brow furrowed, she quickly runs through a mental list of the styles they’ve done already. “I’m still dithering over it; I was trying to decide between the foxtrot, quickstep and rumba. Why, would you like to come and help again?”

                Eve grins and nods. “Yeah! I think he just enjoys staring the bums of the men in your class but I had lots of fun.”

                “You two are welcome back any time.” Particularly because with other experienced dancers around, she can pay more attention to David, and trust that someone will still be doing rounds of the room to correct people’s mistakes. Because after all, she hates to leave a student without a partner for such long periods of time.

                Outside the pub, they say their farewells before parting ways. As soon as she settles into the passenger seat of David’s car, a switch flips in her brain and the lateness of the hour hits her all at once. She yawns deeply. “God, I haven’t been out this late in ages. Why’d Eve have pick somewhere so far away?”

                “If you want to sleep until we get back to your flat, that’s alright. I don’t mind.”

                Catherine shakes her head. “No, that’s alright. But thank you, David.” She pats his hand appreciatively.

                Even so, she can feel herself dozing in and out as they drive. For the most part, David is quiet; she thinks that he knows that she’s practically sleeping, even though every time he does say something, she rushes to respond to prove otherwise.

                Emerging from a snatch of sleep, she realizes that they’re not moving. She thinks for a moment that they’ve arrived home and opens her eyes, only to see that they’re simply stopped at a red light. He hears her squirming and glances over, giving her a small smile. “You look cute when you sleep.”

                She’s certain that she must have heard him wrong, but she smiles back anyway because David’s smile makes her want to smile. “How much longer?” She feels like she should say ‘thank you,’ but since whatever he said was undoubtedly _not_ a compliment, she knows it would be incongruous.

                “Ten minutes or so.”

                “Okay.”

                Catherine doesn’t drift off again, but she still feels too sleepy to pursue much conversation, so silence falls for another minute or so. It’s David who speaks first. “I had a lot of fun hanging out with you tonight.”

                “Yeah, it was great. We should do it again sometime.”

                “What about lunch this weekend? Maybe Sunday?”

                “Lunch?” she asks, as though it is the concept of the meal itself that she finds bizarre, rather than the idea that he wants to hang out with her again so very soon.

                David frowns and looks at her nervously. “Yes?”

                And she realizes, in a sleepy haze, that she would love to get lunch with David again. And the after-effects might kill her but she’ll love it when it matters. So she nods. “I think I can do lunch.”

                There’s nothing wrong with going to lunch with this man. After all, it’s only bloody _lunch_.


	5. Cross Hesitation

                Although David offers to pick Catherine up, and provides a million suggestions for places they could go around the city, she nixes all of them and elects to show him one of her favorite spots in her neighborhood, instead. She doesn’t need him showing up at her door and whisking her away like it’s an actual date. It feels enough like one as it is.

                With that thought in mind, she goes to wait for him outside of her building. He gives her a curious look, when he pulls up and sees that she’s out there. Catherine takes care of his question before he can even ask—as soon as he’s parked and out of his car, she calls out, “It’s such a lovely day that I thought I’d wait for you outside.”

                “I don’t blame you; who knows when it’ll be like this again.” David reaches her and hesitates for a moment, unsure whether he should join her on the bench or if he should remain standing above her. She makes that decision, too, and rises to meet him.

                For a moment, she’s startled by their proximity; he was hovering much closer than she had expected. But she just smiles and turns away from him so she doesn’t have to think about it, asks, “Shall we?”

                “Yeah, sure.” He stuffs his hands in his trouser pockets as they begin to walk. “Where exactly are we going?”

                “A vegan restaurant I like to go to. Is that alright?”

                “Vegan! I’ve never eaten vegan. First time for everything, I suppose. It’ll be fun!”

                Catherine smiles to herself, amused by his enthusiasm. “I go at least twice a week. The people there are all lovely, and the owner can talk your ear off for hours if you’re not careful.”

                “Good thing we’ve got time,” David jokes.

                “Not too much, though; some of us have a lesson to go to tonight.”

                He frowns. “You actually teach a Sunday lesson?”

                “It’s the only time they’re both free before 9 o’clock at night. And I don’t mind, I’m flexible.”

                “Oh yeah?”

                She looks up at David. He’s not looking at her, but he’s smirking. Before she can talk herself out of it, she smiles wider. “I’ve got to be, making a living from my dance classes.”

                “Teaching at inconvenient times, you mean.”

                “What else would I mean?”

                He shrugs. “You tell me.”

                When they reach the restaurant, David rushes to pull the door open and hold it for Catherine as she walks through. She smiles gracefully and thanks him and promises herself that there’s nothing date-like about any of this.

                Immediately upon seeing them, the hostess lights up. “Catherine!”

                “Freema!” They both rush forward to share a hug, as Catherine exclaims, “Has it really been three weeks already?”

                “I know, I can’t believe it either. It went by in a flash. We had a blast, though.”

                “Oh, I’m so glad to hear it. Did you take many photos?”

                “Loads. I can show you, if you like.”

                Catherine hesitates and glances at David. “Next time, I think.”

                For the first time, Freema focuses on Catherine’s companion and her smile grows wider. “Oh, hello. Who’s your date?”

                Immediately, David begins to flounder about for a response, but while Catherine is panicking internally, she elbows him in the side to shut him up and explains, “This is my _friend_ David. He’s taking one of my classes. You two could talk, actually; you can tell him horror stories about being a newlywed.”

                Not that Catherine has any vested interest in changing his feelings about his upcoming nuptials.

                 “Are you getting married?” Freema asks him.  She sounds unnaturally interested in the matter.

                “I am, yeah. In a couple months’ time. Was it your honeymoon that you’ve just come back from?”

                Freema grabs two menus and leads them to a table as she replies, “Yes, we went to Italy. It was incredible.”

                “That’s where I wanted to go!” Several patrons turn to stare and he blushes, adding—at a more reasonable decibel—“But we’ve about settled on going to Spain instead.” Catherine notes the disappointed tone and wonders about the extensive argument that might have been had over the matter.

                “Oh, goodness.” Freema freezes just as she’s about to put the menus down. “I put you at Catherine’s regular spot without bothering to ask—is a table by the window fine?”

                Both women look to David, who shrugs. “Sure, this looks perfect to me.”

                “Great. Your server will be with you soon to take your order.”

                As soon as they’re alone, Catherine lets out a sigh and leans forward. “I’m so sorry about that. She always gets on my case about bringing my boyfriends in, so when she saw you she got a bit overexcited.”

                “You don’t bring dates here, then?”

                “Nah. If we had a bad break-up I wouldn’t want it to ruin this place.”

                David smiles. “But I’m safe. So you figured you could share it.”

                “Something like that.” In reality, she feels that it would be tortuous, coming back in here if something ever were to go wrong between her and David. But she wanted to bring him anyway.

                Over the course of their meal, he showers her with questions about what got her interested in dance, which leads to discussion of their respective childhoods and teen years. David prefaces each story with the reminder that he was an unfortunately awkward, gawky child and teenager and that she must imagine young David as looking the part. But try as she might, she just sees grown David getting into all sorts of shenanigans, which leads to all sorts of absurd mental images that leave Catherine doubled over with laughter, nearly snorting out her drink on more than one occasion.

                He marvels at the vegan substitutes that the restaurant provides for non-vegan food and, more times than Catherine can count, he repeats the line, “But I could swear it tastes just like it’s supposed to!” He is in no way deterred by her reminders that, “Yes, they work very hard to make it that way.”

                When the check comes, they bicker over it something horrible. David immediately wants to pay for Catherine’s meal in its entirety. Given that this _isn’t_ a date, she can’t allow that, and she instead tries to turn the idea on its head and insist that _she_ brought him here, so _she_ wants to treat him.

                It takes an age for them to agree on just splitting the bill.

                They linger for some time after paying, while Catherine tries to decide whether she wants to get a dessert to bring back home with her. She finally settles on a slice of cake, which David insists on purchasing and carrying back to her flat for her.

                On the way back, he asks her a question quite out of the blue. “What’s it like, making a living doing what you love?”

                She makes no effort to hide her surprise and mild bewilderment at the question. “I’d hardly call it that. I’m teaching community dance lessons, it’s not like I’m dancing on Strictly.”

                “You don’t have to be famous; you just have to be doing it. Which you are. So what’s it like?”

                “Why, did you have alternate aspirations?”

                David smirks. “I’ll pretend not to notice that you changed the subject on me. I did, yeah. I wanted to be an actor. I did some school plays, and loved it. I considered going to school for it, becoming one of those pompous twats who doesn’t realize they’re not better than everyone else. I think I’d have played the part well.”

                “Oh, but of course.” Catherine giggles, ever amused by a healthy touch of self-derision. “But…?”

                He shrugs. “But you know, same old story. It’s unpredictable, and I think I psyched myself out too much. My parents didn’t really help, with all of their worrying about how I’d keep food on my table.”

                “See, my mum couldn’t say much, being a florist and all. And these days, I actually make more money than she does.”

                “Really? Considering what Georgia and I are paying your mother, you’ve got me thinking maybe I should become a dance instructor.”

                She gives him a smile. “You wish. Um, would you like to come up for some coffee or tea? I’ve still got plenty of time before my lesson.”

                Coming up to her flat after their non-date for a perfectly amiable, perfectly innocent cuppa.

                Her cat rushes them as soon as they walk in the door, meowing loudly and threading in between their legs as they head to the kitchen. Catherine chuckles. “We need to be careful, or Jasper will start to expect you every time I walk in the door.”

                “Wouldn’t want that,” David agrees, even as he stoops down to pet the cat in question.

                They wait around in the kitchen until the water comes to a boil, at which point Catherine peers into her cupboard and asks, “What kind of tea would you like?”

                “Oh, have you got options? I’ll need to have a look.” He rises from his seat at the table and she hears him coming closer and closer—until he’s so close that she can feel his breath on the back of her neck, knows that he must be nearly pressed up against her.

                “Hazelnut tea? Is that good?”

                She swallows nervously and tries not to think about how she can vaguely feel his chest rising and falling against her back. “Yes, it’s delicious. I’m nearly out, but if you’re a bit short you could probably add some breakfast tea and that should work nicely.”

                “You’ve talked me into it.” He strains to reach around her and Catherine has to hold her breath until he’s moved away. She hardly notices what she selects for herself.

                “Milk?” he asks, as he’s pouring the water into their mugs. Catherine quickly grabs it from the fridge, nearly whimpers when their hands touch, but David seems oblivious. “Ta. Oh, would you like some?”

                “Just a splash.”

                She thanks the Lord for her cat; as soon as she and David have sat down on the sofa together, Jasper jumps up and sprawls out in between them, exposing his stomach with the expectation of petting. A small price to pay to save her from herself.

                “I’ve never seen a cat this affectionate,” David remarks.

                Catherine looks down at Jasper fondly. “Yeah, he likes to pretend that he’s aloof and indifferent toward you, but really he’s just a big softy.”

                “Seems to me that he and his owner are similar in that regard.”

                She blushes and, in spite of herself, instinctively meets his eyes. And in that moment, there’s something about the way he's looking at her, his gaze dropping to her mouth and a gentle quirk to his lips... there's no doubt in her mind that he’s considering how she might react to him kissing her. And she honestly doesn’t know. She should be preparing to slap him, maybe, but she doesn’t want to. She really doesn’t want to.

                Then the moment passes. David takes a sip of his tea and immediately closes his eyes in delight. “God, Catherine, you were right, this is delicious.”

                “I’m glad you like it,” she murmurs weakly.


	6. Turning Lock

                Catherine has only just stepped out of the shower when David knocks on her door on the night of their next class.

                It’s not that she wasn’t expecting him; he texted her a few hours previously to ask if it was alright that he stop by early—she’d taken a few moments to delight in the fact that he now evidently considered it a given that they’d be going to class together. But she hadn’t expected him quite this soon.

                Within a few moments, she weighs the pros and cons of going to answer the door in a towel, and of making him wait until she’s fully dressed. It would, no doubt, be wholly inappropriate for Catherine to answer the door in her current condition.

                She throws caution to the wind and pads through the hall to the vestibule. After their lunch not-date, things have been strange between them, but she can’t imagine that this could make it any worse.

                “I come bearing…” David trails off at the sight of her, dripping water onto her hardwood floor as she clutches the top of her towel to hold it in place. “Um, takeaway. I brought takeaway. Is this a… bad time?”

                “No, not at all. I just wasn’t expecting you so soon.” The blush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks as he gapes at her doesn’t appease her as much as she expected, but she powers on through a fair amount of discomfort. “If you don’t mind taking the food into the kitchen and starting without me, I’ll just get dressed and then be out to join you.”

                “Sure, right, okay.”

                Catherine smiles and steps back to allow him in, already turning to retreat to her bedroom. But another thought comes to mind and she spins around, only to catch David eagerly looking her up and down. His eyes immediately snap back up to her face as she says, “You might also want to grab that open can of cat food in the fridge and put it in Jasper’s dish. He doesn’t like to let people eat until he’s taken care of.”

                He nods dutifully. “I think I can manage that.”

                What an absolutely absurd idea that was. Before this, she had herself nearly convinced that she’d imagined whatever it was that passed between them on Sunday. Now she’s got the image imbedded in her mind of David checking her out while she was in nothing but a towel.

                But by the time she reaches the kitchen, it seems he’s recovered. He looks up from his food at the sound of her footsteps and she detects none of the—she hates to call it ‘desire’, but there’s really no other word for it—that she’d noted only a few minutes before.

                She really doesn’t understand this man.

                “Everything over there is vegetarian,” David informs her, pointing toward the counter with his fork. “I wasn’t sure what you might want, so I went with a variety.”

                “Brilliant.” Catherine peers into one of the containers curiously, and promptly rounds on him, raising her eyebrows. “You consider beef and broccoli to be vegetarian?”

                “Oh! No, um… I thought I brought that over here with me.” He looks into the container beside his bowl. “I guess I grabbed the rice instead. Trade?”

                He rises half out of his seat to bring it over to Catherine, but she crosses the floor to reach him first. They exchange containers and David brushes her hand, which seems less innocent and accidental each time it happens.

                “Are John and Eve still going to be there?” David asks.

                “They should be, yeah. I decided to do the foxtrot tonight, which John loves, so…”

                “So I’ll have you all to myself.”

                Catherine pauses in the middle of preparing her plate and stares hard at her counter. “Well, not really. Since I’m the teacher, I should be the one checking up on everyone, even though obviously the two of them will be a great help…”

                She’s parroting the exact same explanation that she’s used to remind _herself_ why she can’t just focus all of her attention on David, as much as she might like to.

                “That’s a shame. I can’t help feeling as though I’ll be missing out.”

                He better not be pouting when she turns around.

                But of course he is. Catherine takes a deep breath as she sits down across from him, and a thought suddenly occurs to her. She makes a suggestion that she will no doubt regret immediately.

                “Not sure if you’ve been keeping track, but Saturday night’s the first class outing. I suppose I can make it up to you then.”

                 “I’ll hold you to that,” David assures her. “Though I don’t know if one dance would suffice; if you’re not careful, I might just keep you to myself all night to make up for so much lost instruction time.”

                 She longs to make a comment about what they could possibly do with themselves _all night_ , but she lacks the courage to be quite so transparent. So instead, she leans forward onto her elbows, sets her chin in her hand. “Is that a promise?”

                And _there’s_ that look again. It’s only an infinitesimal change in his features but now his gaze is stronger, his eyes more alert and darker. He’s staring at Catherine with a deep curiosity and she wants him to say something before her brain catches up with her and tries to put a stop to this.

                He opens his mouth at the exact same moment that Catherine’s mobile rings.

                She immediately pulls back, leaning as far away from David as possible as the circumstances of their situation come rushing back to her all at once. She makes a show of pulling her phone out of her trouser pocket, as though that somehow accounts for her jolting away, but she’s not sure whether he buys it.

                The sight of the caller ID fills her with guilt.

                “I should take this,” she informs David. “It’s my mum.”

                “S’alright.” He’s already closed himself off again and Catherine feels genuinely disappointed, before reminding herself that David’s got no business flirting with her in the first place. As much as she might want him to.

                It doesn’t turn out to be anything urgent—Josephine is only trying to catch up. “It’s been a week since I heard from you last, darling, I was getting worried.”

                Catherine murmurs an apology, and promises that she just lost track of time. She agrees to a lunch the next day, but has to excuse herself because she’s a bit busy at the moment.

                Their conversation draws to a close within only a few minutes. But the damage is done; neither Catherine nor David is in much of a playful mood anymore, and they finish up their dinner while making small talk and while both avoiding each other’s eyes.

                In the car on the way to the studio, he keeps glancing at her. She suppresses the strong urge to meet his gaze, and tries to pretend that she doesn’t notice him.

                “Do you mind if I ask you something?” she blurts suddenly.

                “Of course not.”

                She stares straight at the road as she voices a thought that’s plagued her for ages. “What do you tell your… what does Georgia think you’re doing each Wednesday night when you’re at class?”

                “Oh. Um.” That was clearly _not_ a question he was prepared for, and Catherine doesn’t blame him; she’s made quite a point not to talk about his fiancée. “A few of my mates and I used to go out once a week. We stopped about two years ago, I think? Two of them had newborns at home to take care of and it wasn’t really the same with just me and Adam. I told her we’d started up again. We’ve been talking about doing it anyway, so I figured it’d be an alright excuse.”

                “That’s brilliant luck.” Catherine hesitates for a moment. “And what about on Sunday? You couldn’t exactly say you were going to lunch with your dance instructor.”

                “No, I uh, told her about running into John last week and said he and I went out to lunch to catch up.”

                She had wondered whether David intentionally avoided mentioning her to Georgia, but having it confirmed is still jarring. After all, he has no reason to keep Catherine a secret; it should be easy enough to come up with a bull shit explanation for how he met her that has nothing to do with a bloody dance class.

                He’s not looking her way anymore; probably because he knows how bad that sounds.

                “I haven’t told my friends about you either,” Catherine whispers.

                “What?”

                It’s hard to tell whether he didn’t hear her or whether he’s surprised by the confession, so she raises her voice and repeats herself just in case. “You’re not the only one who’s hiding our friendship. So stop looking so ashamed.”

                David’s eyes widen. “Why are you keeping me a secret?”

                “I could ask the same of you.”

                “Fair enough.” But he doesn’t answer the question and neither does she.

                As soon as they arrive at the studio, Catherine rushes out of the car, mumbling an excuse about needing to take care of something in the office. She hides in there, chatting with the receptionist up to the last moment before she has to go in and start class.

                “Evening all,” she says, smiling at everyone in the room. “Sorry about the wait. Before we start in on the foxtrot, I’d like to talk a bit about our first outing. I’ve got a flyer up here with some general information and the address and such, so make sure to take one when you leave tonight. I don’t want you to stress too much over attire; everyone’s always worried they haven’t got something appropriate. Men in suits, women in evening dresses, you’ll be just fine. _And_. Perhaps most importantly—”

                Some of the people in front of her look almost apprehensive as they try to prepare themselves for whatever instruction she’s going to give them.

                “I’d advise you to take a cab, because they’ll have an open bar.”

                This earns her a few chuckles, and she grins appreciatively.

                Catherine then summons Eve and John to the front of the room to illustrate foxtrot basic posture and framing. She nitpicks, pointing out the most miniscule problems in an effort to prolong their demonstration. But soon enough, she has no choice but to summon everyone up to have a go on their own. David’s by her side in a flash.

                “I’m sorry,” he says immediately.

                Her brow furrows; he’s got her legitimately curious. “You haven’t got anything to be apologizing for.”

                David lets her grab his hands and he tries to mimic the John and Eve’s stance. He lowers his voice. “Catherine, I know I must have said something that scared you…”

                He’s not the one she’s scared of, but she can’t exactly say that she’s terrified of herself, terrified of what she’ll do if she lets her guard down around him.

                “Your arms need to be up more,” she chides him. “And I know you can stand taller than that.”

                For a moment, it looks like David might push the matter. But instead he obediently adjusts with a murmured, “Yes, ma’am.”


	7. Forward Closed Changes

                Catherine’s been to a million of these things, and she knows they’re all the same. Dancing and drinking and those little hors d’oeuvres that are supposed to make you think you’re being fed when they really don’t do much of anything.

                But as her cab pulls up on Saturday evening, she’s can’t seem to shake the butterflies that are assaulting her gut.

                She and David haven’t communicated in any way since he dropped her off after class. After getting home that evening, she was up until nearly three in the morning, worrying over how much she’d allowed herself to flirt that night. And he was flirting back and looking at her like he wanted to…

                It was wrong; it was all too, too much and in a panicked haze at half two she resolved not to text him at all until she saw him that weekend. Perhaps it was only three days of radio silence but after texting for hours every day for the past two weeks, three days stretched before her as a daunting and unmanageable obstacle. She’d already grown so accustomed to it.

                But Catherine held firm in her resolve, mostly by reminding herself that she never chatted with blokes she was dating as often as she’d been chatting with him, which was the sort of discrepancy that she couldn’t ignore.

                At no point did David try to talk to her. This left her simultaneously pleased—because he probably figured from the way she’d behaved once they got to the studio that she might not be up for a chat—and disappointed… if only because it made her feel a bit like he just didn’t want to speak to her.

                And perhaps a little bit because she’s missed his stories about work and the stand-alone puns and jokes he would send throughout the day, not even really expecting a response. Just wanting to make her laugh.

                Yes, she’s missed those a lot.

                It hasn’t been until now, arriving at the event, that she’s allowed herself to wonder how things will be between them. Wonders whether he’ll be offended that she gave him the silent treatment, if maybe he’ll just want the silence between them to carry on. Or if perhaps—

                _Oh_.

                David must have arrived mere moments before Catherine because he’s still at the coat check and she’s frozen to her spot in the doorway, staring at him. Because he looks… well, he’s looking gorgeous, in a dark well-fitting suit with trousers that accentuate his bum (not that that’s the first place she looked). He’s gotten a haircut since Wednesday, and it looks positively incredible.

                It’d probably look even better if she could run her fingers through it and ruffle it up a good bit, but she’ll take what she can get.

                As though he feels her gaze, David turns to look toward the door, and grins wide at the sight of her.

                Evidently not angry, then.

                He claims his ticket from the coat check and makes a beeline for Catherine, taking large strides across the room. Coming to a halt in front of her, he takes her hand and lifts it to his lips, kissing it softly. Dear _God_. “You look stunning,” he breathes.

                She blushes and smiles gratefully; tries not to think long and hard about the delightful feeling of his lips on her skin, no matter how brief it may have been. “Thanks. You, um, you look rather nice, too.”

                 “Nowhere near as nice as you,” he insists.

                Catherine would very much like to disagree, but before she can, someone clears his throat behind her and she realizes that she’s still standing right in the doorway. She mumbles an apology to the man and adds to David, “I should probably go check my coat,” rushing off to join the queue long before he’s had a chance to process her words.

                But he quickly follows, lingering with her in the line of people.

                “I like your haircut,” she tells him after a few seconds.

                “Do you?” David grins proudly. “I do too. I’ve kept it longer for years, but I thought it was time for something new.”

                “Well, new suits you.” He’s looking so clean-cut and handsome and she wishes she could get up the nerve to say more.

                “Y’know, I almost pulled out my old kilt for the occasion.”

                Her eyes widen and she tries to push the image from her mind, but it’s stuck there now. “What stopped you?” she asks, torn between disappointment and relief.

                “I wasn’t sure what the other blokes would be wearing, so I didn’t want to draw too much attention.”

                In a crowd of men and women, almost none of whom would be below the age of 50, he’ll probably be drawing plenty of attention as it is, but she doesn’t tell him that. He probably won’t even notice; the man doesn’t seem to realize how attractive he is, a thought which baffles her immensely.

                “What does it matter if you look odd? You haven’t got anyone to impress.”

                Although Catherine was only teasing, David turns genuinely bashful and he shrugs, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Sure I have, don’t you remember?”

                “With your dancing, I know. But you’ve already done that, you’re picking it up brilliantly.” She’s keeping her voice steady but she has no idea how.

                “I wasn’t just talking about my dancing.”

                Her throat suddenly feels very dry, and she swallows nervously. “What?”

                “Miss?” The attendant is trying very hard to claim Catherine’s attention and she realizes suddenly that she’s at the front of the queue. She blushes and scurries to the counter, removing her coat and trying to calm herself.

                Now he’s waiting for her off to the side, and when she turns to face him… he’s positively drinking her in. He shouldn’t be, but the voice of reason in her head that’s reminding her of this is getting quieter by the minute.

                “Shall we go in?” she asks as she reaches him.

                “Yeah, sure. I was just… I glanced in and I could swear I saw someone I know.”

                Catherine is torn between amusement and exasperation. “Do you know everyone?”

                “No! I think it’s my mate, Adam. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility… Didn’t I mention he’s a dance instructor?”

                “Your mate Adam, the dance instructor,” she echoes, her heart plummeting.

                Maybe she should turn around and just fucking leave right now.

                But instead she follows David into the main room, where they join the crowd of people congregated on the floor. The music has yet to start, so everyone is standing around and chatting.

                “Yeah. I just find it a bit funny, because he’s the one who…” David’s face falls slightly, but he carries on. “He’s the one who I said I’d be with tonight. But I don’t see him anymore; maybe I was confusing him with someone else.”

                Oh, she hopes so.

                “I want a drink. Do you want a drink? I can get you something.” Anything to distract him.

                He laughs. “That’s supposed to be my line. How about I go and get _you_ something?”

                “David…” Her resolve has almost faded away.

                “Catherine,” he counters. “It’s just one drink. What’s the harm?”

                She gives in. “Alright. I’ll just wait there,” she gestures to the nearest of the empty chairs that line the sides of the room.

                “Excellent. Cranberry juice, yeah?” David doesn’t even wait for a response before he’s bounding across the room to the bar, where another queue has formed.

                From her chair, Catherine watches him as he bobs back and forth on his heels, inching forward in line. The sight makes her smile in spite of herself. He does that a lot, make her smile; she’s been happier these past few weeks than she’s been in years, and she knows that it’s all because of him.

                Then a bloke comes up to David from behind, pressing a hand on his back and leaning in close to say something. David spins around and laughs delightedly. For a few moments, they seem to exchange words, before his eyes drift to Catherine and he smiles, pointing to her. She smiles back, until the man also turns to look.

                It’s Adam. David’s Adam is her Adam.

                She blanches, only lingering until the attention of the two men is no longer on her. She then immediately jumps from her chair and rushes outside onto the terrace, scrambling to pull her mobile from her bag. The terrace is, luckily, completely devoid of people, no doubt put off by the coolness of the evening. All the better for her.

                Josephine picks up on the third ring, and Catherine starts before her mother can even get in a word.

                “Mum, David and Adam are mates.”

                Her mother sighs. “David and who, darling?”

                “Adam! He and I used to teach together, remember?” Silence on the other end of the line, and she groans, exasperated. She needs her mum to understand. Preferably in as few words as possible, preferably as vague as possible. “ _The other one_. Like David. But… but more than David.”

                That does it. “Oh.” A pause. “ _Oh_. Blimey. Does he know everyone?”

                “What does that matter? They’re friends, Mum, this is… this is horrible.” Her mind is quickly filling with images of David’s reaction when he finds out—because given her rotten luck, he’s fucking bound to find out.

                “Catherine. I can understand why you’re scared. But tell me, what are the chances that Adam’s actually told him? Or will ever tell him?”

                “Not too high, I guess,” she concedes.

                “There you go, then.”

                She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and glances into the hall. She can just barely see David in the crowd; he’s scanning the room for her, and he catches sight of her outside at the same moment that she sees him.

                “I’ve got to go,” Catherine says.

                “Oh, yes darling, it was lovely to talk to you, too.”

                He’s weaving his way through the crowd, holding two glasses up high to avoid spilling them.

                “ _Mum_. I would chat, I just can’t.”

                Josephine chuckles. “I’m just giving you a hard time, love. You have fun tonight, okay? Stop worrying so much, enjoy yourself a bit.”

                David appears in the doorway, looking at her curiously and, if she’s not mistaken, a bit hesitantly, like he thinks she doesn’t want him there. “Sure, Mum,” she says carefully. “I’m sure it’ll be a lovely night.”

                “What was that about?” he asks as Catherine tucks her phone away once again.

                She shrugs. “Just my mum. She and I have lunch plans tomorrow and she wanted to make sure that was still happening. I’m sorry I moved, it was just… loud in there.”

                “Oh, okay.” This news is clearly a relief; at least she wasn’t hiding away from him. “Do you want to maybe go back in now, though? I saw the band setting up, it looks like they’re almost ready to start playing.”

                Going in there right now is the last thing she wants to do. She doesn’t want to run into Adam and she doesn’t want to be with the crowd. “Maybe we could just stay out here and chat?” she suggests, claiming the glass of cranberry juice from David and taking a sip.

                “But you promised me a dance.”

                “Didn’t you say you wanted me to yourself all night?”

                “I… might have said something of the sort.”

                Catherine grabs his hand and pulls him over to a pair of the chairs that sit scattered across the terrace, and she pushes him gently into one of them before sitting beside him. “Then you’ve got me. And it’s a long night. We’ve got plenty of time for that dance.”


	8. Hesitation Change

                For about half an hour Catherine waits for David to bring up Adam, but he doesn’t. That is, coincidentally, about the same amount of time that she spends reassuring herself that she’ll eventually go inside to find some of the other people taking her class like she is theoretically supposed to.

                After that she acknowledges that as long as David’s around, she won’t be seeking out anyone else and she settles into her chair for the long haul.

                Not long after, David insists on putting his jacket over her shoulders, and though she swears that she’s fine, the goosebumps up her arms betray her, so she gives in.

                Two hours into the evening, the two of them are still sitting on the terrace together. He’s only gone inside a few times, in order to refresh their drinks—and he stopped doing that once the alcohol started to make him too giddy. But the effect lingers and it’s made him bold, flirting shamelessly and something inside Catherine has snapped because she’s flirting right back and she’s not thinking about the consequences anymore.

                He’s holding her hand in his, his thumb is brushing along her skin gently, and she can’t for the life of her remember who grabbed whose hand. It doesn’t really matter, though, because she loves it; even his lightest touch feels positively electric. Meanwhile they’re maintaining light conversation, showering one another with questions.

                “Tell me… what got you into dancing,” he says.

                Catherine grins broadly. “That’s an easy one. Fred and Ginger.”

                David’s blank stare is worrying enough, and it takes a few moments for him to gain the courage to confirm—“I’m going to be honest and admit that I don’t know who those people are.”

                “Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers,” she explains with a patient smile. “I was home sick one day from primary school and one of their films was on… I think it was _Shall We Dance_. Seeing them made me want to do what they did.”

                “So they’re good, then.”

                “You’d be hard-pressed to find someone better.” Catherine leans her head far back against the top of the chair and stares up at the night sky, smiling as she remembers back to that day, years and years before. “It looked effortless. They’d glide across the floor and you’d swear up and down that they must be flying, because you never saw their feet touch the ground. What little girl wouldn’t look at that and want to do the same?”

                She glances back toward David to ask him a question of her own—she’s dithering between _favorite childhood memory_ and the ever-important _Beatles vs. Stones_ —only to see that he’s watching her and wearing a sort of far-away smile that makes her heart stutter. “What? What is it?”

                “Most girls would see some dancers on the telly, take one ballet class and quit because it’s too hard. But not you.”

                “I guess I don’t know when to quit.”

                “Right, I know what that’s like.” He smirks, and it’s probably supposed to look cool, a little conspiratorial, but it just looks dopey. Catherine likes him more for it.

                They maintain eye contact for what feels like a millennium before she has to turn away, looking back up at the sky. Her breathing is shallow; she tries to take deeper breaths to calm herself down, but in vain. How can she possibly remain calm when David’s so close to her, when she can see him out of the corner of her eye, stealing glances her way, when—

                “So am I ever going to get that dance?”

                When he’s saying things like _that_.

                Catherine strains to hear what they’re playing inside. It’s something fast… Alright, they can do fast. If he’s trying to remember how to do the foxtrot, maybe he’ll be less likely to make some more of those charming comments that are gradually turning her to jelly.

                “Okay. Let’s do it now.”

                He jumps eagerly from his chair and pulls her to the center of the balcony, where there’s enough clear space for them to move around.

                Before they can even start, the song ends.

                David falters, his hand already at her torso, and it takes him a few moments to let it drop to his side again. “Now what?”

                “They’ll start another any second, it’s no problem.”

                It’s a waltz, something slow and schmaltzy. Pretty much the opposite of what she was hoping for. But her partner’s oblivious—he reaches for her again. And she goes with it because despite her reservations… well, she wants to.

                In one last, feeble attempt to knock some sense into herself, she tries to pick a conversation back up. “I love this song.”

                “I actually was just about to say that I recognize it. Where’s it from?”

                “ _Sleeping Beauty_.” She refrains from explaining that it’s actually from a ballet, because she knows that if David recognizes it, it’s just because of the Disney film.

                “That would be why. I just watched that with my niece last week.”

                Niece? Catherine didn’t know that he had any siblings, let alone a niece. “So you haven’t just got a fondness for princess films.”

                He chuckles low. “Not so much. Though I learned this, which is something. I nearly had the words down by the fourth rewatch.”

                “You watched _Sleeping Beauty_ five times? Was that your choice or hers?”

                “I suppose we came to a general consensus on the matter.” A pause. “Wouldn’t you like to hear? I spent ages practicing with her; it’d be a shame if I couldn’t put that to good use.”

                “Um… okay, go ahead.” 

                For a few seconds, he hums along, trying to get his bearings, before he starts to sing. His voice is quiet and gruff and a bit rubbish, honestly, but she’s not thinking much about that when she can feel his breath across the shell of her ear as he murmurs the words.

                “I know you, that gleam in your eye is so familiar a gleam…” As he says it, he squeezes her hand softly, sending a shiver through her.

                Catherine feels as though her heart is caught in her throat. She keeps her eyes on his chest, not wanting to look up and meet his gaze because there’s no telling what will happen if she does. David has disregarded all requirements of posture; his hand had gradually drifted down to the small of her back, coming just shy of settling on her bum. He’s holding her too close—too close for a standard waltz, but Catherine isn’t complaining. It’s not like they’re really doing the waltz at this point anyway.

                In fact, they’re just swaying, mostly. Catherine’s still trying to maintain some semblance of basic footwork but even that’s fading fast.

                God, she’s lightheaded. She wonders what he would do if she excused herself to get some water. Although if she told him she was feeling dizzy, he’d probably sit her down and insist on going back in to fetch some water for her. Blasted gentleman.

                “And I know it’s true, I know what you’ll do—” David’s voice cracks as he hits the high note and she can’t help giggling, but he powers on, taking a deep and exaggerated breath. “You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.” By the end, his voice is just above a whisper.

                “Beautiful,” Catherine breathes. It might just be because he’s got her heart pounding but she actually means it, too, even if he can’t sing very well. “Your niece would be proud.”

                “Maybe. She’d probably scold me for playing the prince when that’s her job.”

                “She made you pretend to be Aurora?” This is the best thing she’s heard all night. “Oh, please tell me she did your make-up.”

                At this point, she becomes vaguely aware that they’ve reached a complete stand-still. Neither of them is moving anymore but they’re still so very close.

                He hesitates for a moment too long. “Don’t make fun, she’s eight. What would you do in a situation like that?”

                “Oh, I’d let her do whatever she wants. That’s not what I think is funny; I’m just trying to imagine how you would look with a bit of blush and lipstick.” In her experience, at least, the two dress-up staples.

                “My sister only bought her some cheap purple lipstick. Let that cement the image.”

                Catherine pulls away enough to survey his face before taking a long look at his lips, which are slightly parted and thoroughly distracting. Keeping her eyes on his mouth, she says, “Well, I’m not sure if it’s really your color, but I can’t imagine it would look too bad.”

                David pauses again, and she can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he thinks about… something. He thinks for an age, or maybe just a second, before—“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

                And then, in the blink of an eye, he releases her hand; reaches to hold her instead at the nape of the neck; and is leaning down, closing the distance between them, kissing her tenderly.


	9. Spiral

                From the moment David brings his lips to hers, the last of Catherine’s self-control crumbles to nothing.  She begins to kiss him back without a second thought, knotting a hand in his hair and desperately trying to pull him closer.

                Spurred on by her enthusiasm, he presses his tongue to her slightly parted lips. She sucks it into her mouth eagerly, eliciting a low groan from deep within David’s throat.

                They kiss until they’re breathless, until he finally pulls away, chest heaving and eyes sparkling as he looks down at down at her.

                “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

                Catherine feels positively drunk on that kiss but now that he’s not snogging her, her sense of reason is already kicking in and she has to fight him on this. “We shouldn’t have, though. I’m just… and you’re… you’re _engaged_.” In spite of herself, she lets out a whimper. “Why’ve you got to be engaged?”

                He stares at her. “I thought I wanted that life. I really did. But when I met you, I realized I want something else more.”

                “What’s that?” Although she thinks she knows what he’s going to say, she’s not sure what it’ll mean when he says it.

                David wraps his hand around her fingers loosely. She can’t tell if he just missed the rest of her hand or if he did it on purpose. “Did that kiss not make it clear?”

                “No, not really.” Not in Catherine’s mind. All this is telling her is that he wants to shag her. And she wants that too—but when he’s bored of her, won’t he just go and marry his fiancée anyway? She’s bound to just be a short-lived distraction and she can’t bear that, not again.

                “Okay, you don’t believe me. I understand that.” His voice is soft and he leans in close, as though he’s confiding to her a deep secret. “But just because you don’t believe me doesn’t mean this isn’t true: for weeks, you’re the only thing I’ve been able to think about. And I’ve gone around feeling wretched and trying to ignore it because this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You’re not supposed to get engaged to someone and then meet someone else who makes your whole life before them seem small.”

                Her pulse has sped up again, and her mind is racing, but she tries to keep David from seeing how affected she is. Is he saying what she thinks he’s saying? “You’re surprisingly eloquent when drunk.”

                “Not at all. I’ve just had this conversation in my head a million times since Wednesday.”

                “What for?”

                “Because you looked so terrified and I wanted to figure out how to convince you that there’s no reason to be. I swear I’m not… I’m not just trying to shag you and this isn’t just me panicking because of my wedding and if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to sit down and talk about this.”

                 After spending every waking moment worrying that David was simply lusting over her, worrying that he’d take advantage of her, this revelation leaves Catherine wanting to sing for joy. And so she throws caution to the wind.

                “Oh, fuck it. We can talk tomorrow.” She tugs him to her by the collar of his shirt and snogs him again.

                Five minutes later, they are tumbling together into a cab, a giggly pile of limbs and coats. They do their best to resituate themselves, Catherine immediately settling herself on David’s lap, straddling him. As she spouts off her address, he places grinning, sloppy kisses along her jaw, and he reclaims to her mouth as soon as she’s worked her way through the street name.

                No doubt the cabbie assumes they’re both completely sloshed. But while David might be, Catherine is seeing things so very clearly. She’s hyper-aware of the gentle burn of his stubble as he moves to kiss along her neck; of his labored breathing, in sync with her own; of that taste that lingers on her tongue from whatever he was drinking all night, something sharp, mixed with the taste of peppermint—she wonders whether he was chewing gum earlier.

                His hands trail down her sides to her waist, her hips, down along the bottom of her dress until his fingers reach the bare skin of her thighs. Her skin is sparking, igniting everywhere he touches it. And then one of his hands is sliding back up her leg, beneath her skirt. She lets out a soft gasp as she realizes that he isn’t stopping, which prompts David to halt in the middle of sucking at her neck. He shifts, pressing his forehead against hers and looking into her eyes.

                “Hey,” he murmurs, so low that she could almost swear that it’s her own imagination. “Think you’ll be able to stay quiet?”

                Catherine bites her lip and gives him the smallest of nods. “Mhm.”

                “Okay.” David gives her a soft kiss and that’s lucky, because next thing she knows, his thumb is pressing against her clit through her knickers, and the surprised noise that she makes is muffled into his mouth. But he lingers there only for a moment before sliding slowly down the fabric, to her entrance, and back up again, teasing her.

                She knows that her knickers are already damp with her arousal—getting more so by the second—and perhaps she would feel self-conscious, except she can feel David’s erection pressing urgently against her thigh. Catherine feels deeply tempted to reach down and stroke him over his trousers, but before she can go through with the urge, he’s pushed the fabric aside and she has to focus all of her energy on staying silent as he caresses her through her curls.

                Her eyes flutter closed and she leans forward, resting her head on his shoulder and pressing lazy kisses to his neck as his thumb works in increasingly tight circles over her clit. She feels a tight knot building in her gut and she reaches up, twining her fingers in his hair because otherwise she’d be digging her nails into his arms.

                “Jesus,” David breathes. “I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.”

                “Specifically this?” she whispers, letting out a chuckle that turns into a whimper as he presses harder against her.

                “Fine, maybe not _this_.” He kisses the shell of her ear. “I’ve wanted to do _this_ since the first time I had you in my car.”

                That sends a shiver down Catherine’s spine, but she can’t bear to say anything else because she’s fairly certain her words won’t come out as coherent sentences.

                She feels herself getting higher and higher, with no sign of potential relief in sight. Feeling breathless and jumbled, she manages to gasp out—“David, I need…”

                With his free hand, David nudges at her chin and she lifts her head; he looks into her eyes, questioning, and she’s trying to get the energy to tell him what she wants. But then he either reads her mind or makes a very lucky guess—probably the latter—because, as he continues his ministrations with his thumb, he stretches two fingers down and teases her entrance for a few moments before pressing  inside. She’s so wet and so ready for him and he curls his fingers inside her, rubbing against a spot that prompts her to let out a moan that she hardly even tries to suppress.

                He gently slides in and out, and he’s probably trying to match the pace with that of his thumb but he’s too drunk to manage and Catherine is too far gone to care.

                “Come on, Catherine,” he mumbles. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

                She nods, gets out a breathless, “Yes.”

                “Good.” He’s got a pleased smile on his face; the smug, drunk bastard. “Come on, love—” He presses his thumb hard against her clit, sending a jolt straight through her. “Come for me.”

                As he coaxes her, he buries his fingers in to the knuckles and the sensation is finally enough to bring her over the edge. She squeezes her eyes shut, gasping and shuddering and David’s mouth only partially muffles her loud, satisfied moan as he kisses her hungrily.

                He waits until she’s come down from her high before nudging her knickers back into place and reclaiming his hand. He scatters kisses across her face, on her cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, and finally snogs her, long and slow.

                The cab jolts to a stop quite suddenly and Catherine nearly falls out of David’s lap.

                “We’re here,” the cabbie grunts.

                She doesn’t bother to look at the total, just shoves a handful of notes at him that she knows will be much higher than whatever’s on the screen. He deserves it after that display.

                They fall against the wall of the elevator and David is kissing along her collarbone and the top of her breasts for a full fifteen seconds before she realizes that neither of them pressed the button for her floor. Upstairs, as she fumbles with her lock, he presses up against her, hands around her waist and sucking on her neck from behind and the only thing stopping her from turning around and snogging him senseless is the promise of a very private flat and a very welcoming bed on the other side of the door.

                “God, you’re beautiful,” he mumbles against her lips as she unbuttons his shirt and tugs away his tie. “Downright gorgeous.”

                Catherine blushes brilliantly and stumbles into him as they reach the end of the hall and he lands against the door jamb, missing the entrance to her bedroom. “So are you.”

                “Mmm, but not like you,” David insists. He looks down at her, brushes a strand of hair back behind her ear. “You trusted me to come into your life and to come to your restaurant and you taught me how to dance and you’ve told me so many beautiful things and I think it makes you the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met.”

                A pause. “Also, you just look…” He scans her up and down slowly. “Stunning.”

                He said the same thing at the beginning of the evening but the words bear such different weight now.

                “Did you practice that too?”

                “A million times,” he admits with a wolfish grin.

                She swallows, and holds his gaze for a few moments in silence before she finally clears her throat. “David.”

                “Catherine.”

                God, she’ll never be over how her name sounds coming from him. “I’d like to get those trousers off you now.”

                He grins broadly. “Funny, I was just about to say the same about your dress.”


	10. Heel Pivot

                Catherine wakes up the next morning to the smell of food wafting in from the kitchen. It takes her all of five seconds to process why someone is in her flat and cooking, and to flash through the events of the night before. When she does, she’s filled with such an overwhelming sense of joy. As she’d drifted off to sleep in David’s arms, there had been a part of her—a small part—that had wondered whether he would be gone when she woke up.

                Not only has he stayed, he seems to be in no hurry to leave.

                She dons a robe before going out to him, already preparing to ask… something about the food, though as soon as she reaches the doorway, she loses sight of what she wanted to say. David stands before her, puttering over the stove in nothing but his pants and whistling a tune that she doesn’t recognize.

                It warms her heart and she wants this moment to last forever, but after a few seconds she makes her presence known. Clearing her throat, she remarks, “It figures that you’re a morning person.”

                David jolts in surprise, and when he turns around, he gives her a tentative smile. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

                “Of course it’s not, no.” Catherine pads across the floor, her eyes downcast as she halts in front of him and admits, “I couldn’t care less, really. I’m mostly just pleased to see that you’re even still here.”

                “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks gently. “I certainly can’t go when we haven’t had that talk, can I?”

                “I suppose not.” He’s really serious about this, then. She looks him in the eye and smiles. “Is there anything I can do to help you with breakfast?”

                He shrugs. “Maybe pull out some plates? I’ve about finished.”

                “They’re in that cabinet right behind you, so you’ll have to move.”

                Something changes in David’s expression and suddenly he’s smirking, suddenly there’s a glint in his eye. “I’ll have to, will I?”

                “Well, yeah, I’d appreciate it.” Catherine blushes deeper by the second as he doesn’t move, just blinks down at her, and finally she grabs him at the waist and actually pushes him aside to reach into the cabinet.

                And he pouts, leaning in to murmur, “You’re no fun,” before pressing a kiss to her neck and taking the plate that she’s offering to him.

                She tries to ignore the warmth that spreads through her at the feeling of his lips against her skin. This attempt fails rather miserably, but she powers on. “So what are we having?”

                “I wanted to make pancakes, but you were out of flour, so I just did a bit of a fry up—some eggs, beans, potatoes… I usually like to do more, but you really haven’t got much in the refrigerator; I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

                “That’s not true!” she protests. “I’ve got plenty in the refrigerator.”

                “Sure, plenty of takeaway boxes.” David says this with the utmost fondness.

                Catherine elbows him as she claims her portion of eggs.

                They sit at the table together, and for some time they’re content to eat in silence. She’s waiting to have this talk, the one that he keeps saying that he wants to have, but she hardly feels like she can be the one to bring it up. And so she waits, glancing up from her food every once in a while and always inevitably meeting his eye, at which point they smile. He nudges her foot under the table and she nudges him back, though she puts a stop to that nonsense before it becomes an all-out war.

                “You’re ridiculous,” she tells him, biting on her lip to suppress a grin.

                “You’re exceptional,” David fires back. He rests his chin in his hand and stares at her hard and there’s no doubt in her mind that he means it. “I’ve thought so… almost since the first moment I spoke to you.”

                She flushes, glancing down at the remnants of her food and picking at it so that she doesn’t have to look at him.

                When he speaks again, it’s to say something which she most definitely was not expecting. “Do you want to know why I didn’t tell Georgia about you?”

                Catherine looks up again immediately, brows furrowed. David’s actually picking up their conversation from Wednesday, and though the subject change is jarring, she’s wondered about it since he admitted to keeping her a secret. “Why?”

                “I’m pretty sure she noticed something was off when I came home from that very first class. And I told myself that it was just because I was having trouble keeping the secret about learning to dance. But then I started to realize that I was falling for you. And I couldn’t bring you up after I realized that because I could have told her _anything_ , made up any lie in the world about how I know you… and she would have seen through me in a second.”

                “Because you’ve fallen for me,” she repeats. And perhaps it sounds like she’s trying to gloat, but really she’s just marveling at the fact because it’s so difficult for her to believe.

                “Yes,” he says softly. “Completely and totally. I almost didn’t come back to class that second week because I was terrified by how attracted to you I was.”

                Her eyes widen as she leans forward and lowers her voice, struck by the conspiratorial feel of the moment. “What made you change your mind?”

                “Running into you at the shop. I figured it was a sign that I should stick it out.”

                “Are you pleased that you did?”

                David breaks into a wide grin. “More than you know.”

                Catherine finally allows herself to smile too, if only because her heart is singing and she needs a way to show it. “What do you mean by that?”

                “Georgia and I…” He trails off thoughtfully before picking back up again. “We dated for five years, and then she told me that she either wanted to get married or break up. I figured we might as well get married, because we get on and all. But then I met you and it bowled me over and I couldn’t very well marry Georgia when I felt this strongly about someone else, could I?”

                “No, I suppose not,” she breathes.

                “So if I tell you that yesterday I decided I’m going to break my engagement off—”

                Catherine’s heart leaps. “You what?”

                “I’m going to break it off. I’ve honestly had some trouble figuring out whether you reciprocated my feelings, but I figured that regardless, I couldn’t marry Georgia if I was in love with someone else. Last night when I ran into my mate Adam, I actually told him. I guess it kind of cemented the decision for me.”

                Everything else that he said seems irrelevant as she focuses on one tiny detail: “Did you just say ‘love’?”

                “Oh, I… did I?” Now David is the one blushing.

                “I’m fairly certain I heard the word ‘love’ in there somewhere.”

                He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Right, well, see…”

                She doesn’t leave him struggling, though; she rises from her seat and pulls him up too, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him hard.

                And when she pulls away, Catherine regards him carefully before saying, “I love you too, David. No need to look so bloody terrified.”

                “That’s not terrifying,” he rushes to assure her. “I’ve never been more excited about something in my life.”

                She lets out a satisfied sigh and rests her forehead against his chest. “You really should stop being so ruddy charming.”

                “No, I shan’t,” David assures her, wrapping his arms around her torso and hugging her tightly.

                Despite a strong desire on both sides to postpone his departure, they reach an unspoken agreement that it would be best for him to leave sooner rather than later—because they’ll have all the time in the world together once he’s actually put an end to his engagement.

                Catherine follows him back to her bedroom, where he pulls on the previous evening’s clothing… moving slower than is probably necessary, most likely because he appreciates the way that she’s drinking him in from her perch on the bed. Shamelessly, because she can. Because it’s okay. Because it… prompts him to bend down and snog her for a full minute when he’s halfway through buttoning his shirt.

                He sits down beside her to pull on his socks and shoes, and while he’s doing so, he turns on his mobile, looking at it for the first time since he arrived at the event the night before.

                “Oh!” he exclaims suddenly. “I only just missed Adam! He left me a message less than five minutes ago.”

                “Did he?” she asks, doing her best to sound genuinely curious. “How funny.”

                David doesn’t seem to hear her. He smiles, lies back on the bed as he dials his voicemail. “As soon as I listen to this, I’ll get out of your hair.”

                “You say that like you think I want you gone.”

                He smiles up at Catherine, reaching out a hand to her and pulling her down to peck her on the lips. “I should hope not. I just got you, I’d hate to lose you now.” A pause. “Okay, hang on a tick while I listen to this.”

                It takes only a fraction of a second for her to realize that something is wrong, and she watches his expression distort from that smile until he’s staring up at the ceiling, blank-faced and listening to whatever Adam has to say.

                And when the message finally comes to an end—which to Catherine seems to take an eon, or maybe two—David hesitates for a moment before saying, “I think you should listen to this.” He doesn’t look at her as he sets his mobile to speaker and instructs the message to replay.


	11. Cross Swivel

                Adam’s voice comes out of the phone, and it’s a bit crackly and faint like he’s somewhere with bad reception but he sounds the exact same as he did when Catherine last spoke with him over a year ago.

                _“Hi David. I’m honestly still not sure whether this is a good idea, telling you about this. I haven’t actually talked about it with anybody, but I guess I figured, you’re my best mate so if anyone would be able to still look at me afterward it’d be you. And after what you told me last night, about how you’ve realized that you don’t want a life with Georgia… well, it’s made me think a lot about what I want, and I feel like you deserve to know the full story. Um.”_ He exhales loudly. _“I’m sorry, this is harder than you would believe. Christ._

                _“I guess I’ll just say it. I told you, I told everyone who asked about the divorce that it was because of… well, I can’t even remember all of the excuses I came up with. Too many. They were all accurate, I suppose, but it wasn’t the whole story. The truth is, I had an affair.”_

                Immediately, Catherine’s stomach drops. She feels as though all of her worst fears have been realized at once. “David—” she starts, but he silences her with a glance. He doesn’t look angry or bitter, he just looks so forlorn and it nearly kills her.

                _“It must have gone on for two years. It ended about a year and a half ago, and she and I put as much distance between ourselves as possible after that. I used to teach classes with her, but it was the reason I quit my job to work somewhere else. And even though it was over, you saw how my marriage fell apart in the last year. And now here I am._

_“But then last night, I ran into you and you told me that you had secretly signed up for a dance class to surprise Georgia for your wedding. And your teacher was brilliant, you said, really lovely. And the next thing I knew you were pointing her out, this brilliant teacher, and there she was. I haven’t seen her in at least a year but she looks just the same, David, just as stunning. I was looking at a ghost and for a second I was terrified that you somehow knew, but how could you?_

_“Then you told me that you thought that you wanted to call off the wedding. You kept saying that you were reversing a mistake, that you saw such a bright future ahead but that Georgia wasn’t what you wanted. ‘I’m not scared to go after what I really want anymore,’ that was what you said. And I guess it got to me, because I really want to try. I want to try to fix my mistakes and go after what I really want. Which, well, I think it could be Catherine. If she’d even have me after all this time, after I was such a twat.”_ Adam chuckles and it is tremendously uncomfortable.

                _“So I guess I just wanted to thank you. For getting me to reconsider everything for the first time in a long while. And you have every reason to just call me a prick and never speak to me again but I’m hoping that that’s not the case because I think you know better than anyone that I mean it when I say that I want to do everything in my power to be better than this, yeah? Um, and even if you’re livid and you made it this far, thank you for hearing me out. It’s probably more than I deserve.”_

                The message cuts off, and the automated voice on David’s phone begins spewing options for how to proceed. He immediately erases it.

                The ensuing silence stretches on for so long that Catherine nearly expects him to get up and leave without so much as a goodbye. He doesn’t even seem to want to make eye contact; his focus is directed down at his lap.

                “I’m trying to imagine…” David begins slowly, his tone flat and betraying absolutely nothing about how he might be feeling. “I’m trying to imagine what it must have been like for you to look over and see us together.”

                “Terrifying,” Catherine whispers, more to herself than to him.

                “Oh, I’m sure. What if I knew about his affair, or what if I’d told him about you, right? What if we put the pieces together?”

                She swallows thickly and doesn’t respond. But that’s fine, because David goes on.

                “And well, clearly Adam doesn’t know about us. I wasn’t going to talk to him about it until I knew where you and I stood, but now I don’t—well, I don’t really know.”

                “What do you mean?” Her voice is shaking, which would maybe bother her in any other circumstances, but she’s feeling so anxious that it doesn’t fucking matter.

                “I’m trying to understand why… what would possess you to… I mean, he was married, and I’m engaged, and I just—”

                Catherine looks up and interrupts him sharply. “Hang on, please tell me you’re not thinking that I just fancy the idea of shagging married men.”

                “I don’t know what I’m thinking, it just seems bloody odd that –”

                “He never even told me that he was married!” she shouts, with a sudden intensity that surprises them both, that prompts David’s head to jolt up. She wishes immediately that she had held it back because this is David’s mate that they’re talking about.

                But it’s out there now. “He _what_?”

                “He never told me. And then he did, which was what prompted me to put a stop to it. Ending that relationship was the most unpleasant thing I’ve ever had to do, because I’d spent the past two years falling in love with him, but I knew I did not want to be somebody’s _mistress_. And now I have spent the past month reminding myself of all of the reasons that I’ve fallen for you, because in the back of my mind I kept thinking of Adam and I’ve been frightened as hell that I just wanted you because you were unavailable. So don’t you dare imply that I want a load of meaningless flings with married men. Just don’t. That is so unbelievably far from the truth.”

                Somewhere in the midst of her speech, Catherine began to tear up and now those tears run freely down her face. She wipes them away hurriedly and turns away from David, mumbling, “If this changes anything, though, you can leave. I won’t fault you.”

                “No, of course it doesn’t change anything. He lied to you, I can’t blame you for that. And you and I… Christ, I’m surprised that _you’re_ willing to settle for _me_. I’m the one who cheated on someone. I’m no better than him.”

                “I don’t care about that,” she retorts immediately.

                She can hear David crawling over to her across the bed, feels him put one hand gently on her waist. When she doesn’t shrink away, he wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on her shoulder. “And I don’t care about Adam. Or any other marks on your bedpost, for that matter, married or otherwise.”

                Catherine closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, allowing herself to fall into his embrace completely. She lays her hands over his and holds him close. Then: “For the record, you are better than him. He strung me along for two years, and it took a _month_ for you to decide that this couldn’t carry on.”

                “Well, yeah,” he murmurs. “Because this is what I want.”

                 “Me too. I’ve never wanted something more.”

                David laughs softly and presses a trail of kisses on her neck, up along her chin and finally reaches up a hand to turn her toward him so he can gently kiss her on the lips. “I’m going to go home,” he tells her as he carefully extracts himself from their hug and rises to his feet before her. “I’m going to talk to Georgia. And after that’s done, I’m going to ring Adam.”

                “I think… I think I want to speak with him too.”

                He stares at her blankly. “Really? Are you… are you sure?”

                And she nods, even though she’s not sure, at least not completely. There’s a part of her that feels like she’ll break down before she can so much as get a word out to him. “Yes.”

                “Alright. I’ll tell him that he’ll be hearing from you, too.”

                 “Well, no need to make it sound like a death sentence.”

                “Well, it is a bit.”

                Catherine smiles graciously. “I love you.”

                A grin lights up David’s face and he bends down to kiss the crown of her head. “I could definitely get used to hearing that. I love you, too.”

                He leaves, kissing her goodbye at the door with a promise of, “I’ll talk to you very soon.”

                She putters around the flat once he’s left, cleaning, watching rubbish television. Tries to convince herself she’s not waiting on his call because she knows, she really does, that he can’t just cut off a relationship that’s lasted for over five years.

                But Catherine can’t help it if she’s impatient.

                Finally her mobile is ringing. She hasn’t even said hello before David starts. “Care to take in a poor homeless man until he can get back to his feet?”

                Which is how he ends up her door, bag over his shoulder. And he falls into her arms immediately. In her ear, he breathes, “I’ve never felt so relieved.”

                Yes. She knows exactly what he means.


	12. Running Finish

                Catherine is struggling to decide between two different necklaces when the knock comes on her door. She drops both pieces of jewelry down immediately and rushes out from her room, down the hallway and to the vestibule.  

                When she opens the door, it is to David’s smiling face. His smile only widens at the sight of her all dressed up.

                But his reaction is nothing compared with her delighted giggle as she processes David’s ensemble. “You went with the kilt this time.”

                “I did, yeah.” He glances down at himself, then looks back up, his expression bashful. “I figured it’s a pretty special occasion—after all, I might never do something like this again.”

                She tries not to let this phase her, and to respond playfully as she closes the door and guides him back toward her bedroom so that she can finish getting ready. “What, you don’t plan to come with me as a guest once you’re not taking my class?”

                David chuckles. He slides his hand smoothly down Catherine’s arm, linking their fingers together when he reaches her hand. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. I was referring to the fact that this is our first official date.”

                “Oh.” She blushes deeply as the implication of his words sets in, but again, she tries to play it off nonchalantly. “I hadn’t even thought of that. This is our first date.”

                Privately, she’s been consistently thinking of the lunch they shared together a month ago (was it only a month ago?) as their first date. But so much was different then. Now there is no fiancée and David has moved into a flat of his own about fifteen minutes away.

                Not that he spends a great deal of time there, but they both agree that for now, he should have his own place.

                “First official date,” he corrects her. As though reading her mind, he admits, “I’d count that lunch we had as a date. We ate a meal, you invited me back in, I…”

                “You almost kissed me.”

                David doesn’t answer. While he has acknowledged to Catherine just how tempted he was to come onto her that day, for the most part he tries to avoid discussing the beginnings of their relationship in terms of his infidelity. Not that it can be helped to some extent; but she fully appreciates why he might not feel inclined to dwell on it.

                She returns to her jewelry while David lingers in the doorway, leaning against the door jamb and watching her attentively.

                “My mum keeps asking me about you,” Catherine says after a moment.

                “Why? She’s met me.”

                “She wants me to bring you ‘round for dinner so she can interrogate you properly.”

                “Oh, right.” He hesitates. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

                Catherine can’t help but smirk. She reaches out her hand and he immediately steps forward to take it, allowing her to pull him closer and press a soft kiss to his lips. “Considering that she usually despises the men I date, I’d say the fact that she’s begging me to bring you over is a good thing, yeah.”

                “In that case, I’ll be only mildly terrified.” He looks her over, admiring her once again before smiling warmly. “You ready to go do some dancing?”

                “Mmm,” she hums agreeably. “Think you’ll be able to keep up with me?”

                David scoffs. “It’s not fair to get all competitive when we know who the winner’ll be.”

                “No, that’s when I like it best,” she insists, pursing her lips.

                “So I’ve noticed.” He kisses her pout away.

                He pulls back but lingers close, leaving only an inch or two of space between them. Catherine need not stretch her imagination much to make a pretty good guess at the general path down which his thoughts are straying. And, though she knows that he’ll gladly tag along if she wants to go dancing, the prospect of a night in is looking increasingly appealing.

                “What are you thinking about?” she murmurs.

                “How much I love you.”

                “How much you’d love to shag me, you mean.”

                “The two are not mutually exclusive.” David shifts his head to the side, nuzzles and kisses her neck so lightly, but even his soft touch raises goosebumps on her skin.

                She swallows and her thoughts race. “But I’d… like to see you dance in your kilt.”

                “There’s always next time,” he offers. “And every other time after that.”

                “Every time?” Catherine asks.

                “Yes.”

                “For how long?”

                “For as long as you’ll have me.”

                As though she’d ever want to give him up. “Forever, then.” She breathes the words into his mouth immediately before he kisses her again, fuller now.

                Catherine tugs away his jacket and his vest and pulls him down onto the bed quickly, but once they are reclining, they spend what feels like hours just snogging. This is easily one of her favorite things that she’s learned about David—more often than not, he seems to be in no real hurry to get on with sex. Not that she enjoys it any less when it’s rushed and intense, but it’s incredible how turned on she finds herself getting just from his kisses, from his gentle but firm grip at her waist with one hand and at her neck with the other.

                “We could still go,” he murmurs eventually. His lips ghost over her chin and along her jawline as he speaks.

                “Do you want to?”

                He remains silent, not giving her a flat-out answer, but his dark, penetrating eyes betray the extent of his desire and she knows there’s no way he wants to go anywhere.

She smirks and traces her finger up the center of his shirt, lingering at the top button and fiddling with it. “I don’t either.”

The moment that Catherine pulls the first button free, David grins eagerly. The hand that had previously rested at her neck now traces down her figure, seeking out the zipper of her dress. Before he can get to it, she finishes unbuttoning his shirt and untucks it. She pushes it off his shoulders, and the shirt pools around the middle of his back, the sleeves fall down to his elbows.

                He pulls back quite abruptly so that he can discard it, and Catherine follows, sitting up and gripping his neck so that she can carry on kissing him. David edges closer so that he can grind against her; the feeling of his cock against her tummy is invigorating, even if it is through the fabric of his kilt and her dress. She moans into his mouth; it sounds completely foreign at first, until she hears David’s pleased chuckle and she realizes that it was from her, not him, that the sound originated.

                “Why are you giggling?”

                “Because you’re cute,” he fires back immediately. He finally finds the zipper that he’d been searching for—it’s on the side of the dress—and he starts to unzip it. “And hot,” he adds, brushing some strands of hair away from her eyes. “And tremendously sexy. And I can’t believe my luck. That’s why.”

                Catherine blushes but she smiles, feeling both touched and pleased. David goes to great lengths to remind her often just how important she is to him and she’s begun to really believe him. “Thank you, love,” she tells him softly.

                Her zipper taken care of, she gets up for a moment to take off her dress and drape it over a chair so that it won’t be completely wrinkled the next morning. Rather than letting her rejoin him on the bed, David stops her, grabbing her hands and blinking up at her with something akin to reverence.

                “How’s it going?” he asks her, quite casually.

                She smiles warmly. “No complaints from me. You?”

                “Me neither.” David presses a kiss to her stomach, and Catherine giggles at the slight tickling sensation. She can just barely feel his eyelashes brush her skin as he blinks. She cradles his head in her hand for a few moments, stroking her fingers through his hair.

                “You too,” she nudges him after a pause.

                “What?” He glances down at himself, still clad from the waist down. His eyes are bright and playful. “You don’t want me to keep the kilt on?”

                Catherine considers it for the briefest of seconds. “Another time, maybe,” she says with a small smile.

                She teases David when he removes the kilt to reveal a pair of pants, and he gets very indignant: “I wasn’t going to go commando to a fine dancing establishment!”

                He quiets down very quickly when she pulls him in for another kiss.

                When David finally reaches over to the bedside table for a condom, the two of them are positively buzzing with a warm, enthusiastic feeling of desire. Their pulses are racing and their eyes are locked as they fuck, slow and patient. As he feels himself nearing an orgasm, David reaches down and tries to coax Catherine towards her own climax.

                It hits him in a sudden wave and even as he’s numb and seeing stars, it registers that she’s not there with him. So he ducks his head down, and she’s breathless and quivering before she finally comes, screaming his name, with the help of his deft mouth and tongue.

                Her eyes are closed as she tries to bring her pulse and her breathing back down, so she doesn’t see that David’s about to kiss her again until his lips are on hers.

                “We should take a shower in a bit,” she murmurs. “Get cleaned up.”

                “Must we?” Having already tossed the used condom in the nearby bin, he has settled in at Catherine’s side and can just feel himself becoming drowsy.

                “The night’s young. I’m sure I can make it worth your while,” she assures him.

                From the way he perks up, she knows immediately that this assurance has made the prospect of a shower far more appealing.

                “Catherine?” David asks, after a fair amount of silence between them.

                “Hmm?”

                “Tomorrow night let’s have an actual first date. Dinner and a movie, all that good stuff.”

                “Will you bring me flowers?”

                “Will you pretend to like them?”

                She turns over onto her side so that she is facing him, and she smiles gently. “For you, I think I could manage that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dearies--  
> So that's it for the main story. I do have another "chapter" of sorts in mind that I intend to write eventually, which takes place sometime in the future; however, at this point I'm thinking that I'll post it as a separate one-shot when I complete it. 
> 
> Thank you for your enthusiasm, and I hope that you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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